Throughout cinema history, there have been some iconic nude scenes that have transcended the bounds of the films in which they appeared. Our weekly columnAnatomy of a Scene's Manatomywill take an in-depth look at these scenes, their history, their deeper meanings, and their legacy. This week, Al Pacino goes back undercover, this time in the leather daddy gay bar scene of the late 70s in William Friedkin's Cruising.
Just last month, with little to no fanfare whatsoever, Friedkin's first film of the 80s celebrated its 40th anniversary. Very much a holdover from the 70s, which ended literal weeks before the release of the film, Cruising is a curiosity of the highest order. If you're a movie buff, the notion that Al Pacino headlined a murder mystery set in the world of New York gay leather bars directed by the guy who made The Exorcist and The French Connection sounds enticing, to say the least. The film's two biggest problemsare that its leading man looks half-committed andits director consistently leaves his befuddledstar hung out to dry. Neither man seems to want to be there, making the film that much less compelling.
Friedkin allegedly wanted Richard Gere for the leading role of an ambitious cop who goes undercover in the leather daddy world because he happens to be the same type as all of the killer's victims.However, he went with Pacino because he could secure them a larger budget and Pacino allegedly had a strong desire to play against type. He really should’ve gone with Gere, though, as he could've navigated this world with much more credibility and much less incredulity. Cruisingwas released the same year as Paul Schrader's American Gigolo, which was obviously the right call for Gere in hindsight, but it's hard to argue he wouldn't have made this film better.
The film, like the novel on which it was based, courted controversy from minute one. Outragedgay and transgendered people disrupted filming whenever the production moved outdoors, blaring air horns or directing sunlight into shots with mirrors. They were, rightly so, worried about their representation in what was obviously a major motion picture starring almost exclusively heterosexual actors. These disruptions caused nearly 2/3 of the film's audio to be replaced through ADR. Friedkin maintains that the film is a murder mystery that just happens to be set in the world of leather clubs of the late 70s. This is borne out by the fact that the moviesuddenly drops its interest in leather bar culture, and just when I was starting to get my handkerchief etiquette in order.
Friedkin's "gay credentials" consist solely of the fact that he directed a wildly stereotypical film version of therecently departedMart Crowley's The Boys in the Band.No doubt Friedkin thinks his intentions are good, but the film is a mess of mixed messages. Does applying the dreaded “male gaze” to the leather bar scene of the late 70s make it more or less exploitative? I can’t figure it out and clearly neither has Friedkin. There is quite literally three articles worth of shit to dissect in this film's scant 100 minute running time, from the jock strap cop to James Franco's ridiculous recreation of the film's missing 40 minutes of hardcore leather bar footage to the unintentional hilarity of the film's two sex scenes between Pacino and co-star Karen Allen, but we need to focus up a bit.
Let's take a look at Pacino himself. In his heyday, he was known for his fearlessness as an actor, but staring down the barrel of the 80s—and the camera's lens at the end as well—he seems to be scared to get too far into this character and this world. The entirety of his nudity resides in this thirteen second clip where the cops tailing him move in too soon when hetakes Jay Acovone to the hotel after Acovone watches him huffing ether and dancing like a maniac in the club. Pacino admonishes the cops for moving in too soon, and the audience can't help but do the same as Pacino clearly wasn't finished undressing...
The disappointment I feel in Pacino the actor and Friedkin the director is palpable. Pacino is an actor who enjoys spontaneity and is known to throw off his co-stars with interesting line readings. Here he comes off like Frank Serpico trying desperately not to "turn gay" from hanging out in the club too much. It could've been something interesting at the very least, but he flounders in the first of several consecutive misfires that drove him from screen acting altogether from 1985-1989.
It’s a fascinating time capsule of a movie but lacks a compelling dramatic narrative. The ambiguity of the killer, even after the film is over, makes a mockery of the proceedings.There are moments when this seems appropriately transgressive as a motion picture, like a random sequence set in a park around the hour and fifteen minute mark that looks like it was lifted straight out of a Wakefield Poole movie. Friedkin's lack of vision when the film moves outside the club scene is what sinks the whole endeavor.
One other thing of interest is that the film's first murder occurs in the Hotel St. James, the same hotel Josh stays in on his first night as Tom Hanks the adult inBig. Good luck ever being able to watch Big again without thinking he might be staying right next door to that murder. We'll revisit Cruising again sometime in the futureas there's still so much to dissect and discuss. Arguably the best thing to come out of the film is this amazing mock commercial that played Sundance a few years back. Enjoy...
